The Day Before Mother's Day
by katie janeway
Summary: Continuation of the Bedtime universe. Set five years after Bedtime.


**_Disclaimer: ND & HB aren't mine._**

He sat in his study, working as usual, sighing now and then as his stress level increased. Though he had chosen this career, and despite what it had cost him, could never think to leave it…there were times when he would much rather be outside jogging or pursuing some other hobby, like most men his age. But his work was hard and demanding, and he rarely had free time these days.

He turned away from his files as the door to the study creaked open. His ten-year-old daughter poked her head inside. He smiled as the image brought to mind a memory, of an old friend at a younger age, who was also blonde and curious.

"Dad?" His daughter asked tentatively.

"Hmm?"

"Tomorrow is Mother's Day, and…" her voice trailed off, and she stared at the floor. He noticed that she scuffed her shoe against the carpet, something her mother used to do when she was nervous. A small inkling of what his daughter might want came to mind.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering … if you could tell me about Mom." Inwardly, he winced. He had known this question would come sooner or later, had known that his daughter would want to know more about the mother she had barely known. Oh, he had told her some over the years, but the memories were always too painful for him to tell more than a handful at a time.

"Alright….pull up a seat."

His daughter rushed into the room, barely remembering to close the door behind herself, and quickly sat down in a black leather armchair a few feet from his own seat. She leaned forward, the eagerness and curiosity very evident in her expression, and he grinned slightly, despite how he felt. Once again, she had reminded him of an old friend.

"Your mother…" he began, then paused. Really, how could he begin? How could he describe the woman that had been his wife, and this girl's mother? He cleared his throat, and started again. "Your mother was an amazing, beautiful, intelligent woman…that's what drew me to her to begin with. I had a reputation as a flirt then, and it had perhaps worsened somewhat after the death of my first love, who was killed in a car bomb meant for me. I was afraid to get attached to anyone for long, afraid someone else might get hurt…and then I met your mother. And fell head over heels."

"When did you meet?"

"We met in high school….she was new in town…" he trailed off, lost again in the memories. Happier days, hanging out with his friends and Vanessa, eating pizza together, movies, skating…he shook his head, brought himself back to the present to find his daughter staring at him.

"She was stubborn, too. She got involved in many of the cases your Uncle Frank and I were on…actually, sometimes, she reminded me of Nancy."

"Nancy Drew?" His daughter sat up eagerly in her chair. Nancy Drew was her namesake and her godmother, and though his daughter had met the woman a few times before, the elder Nancy was usually not around or in contact. Her own career had taken her all over the globe, and often into situations where it was best to go dark at times. Therefore his daughter was almost as eager to learn more about her as she was her own mother.

"Mm-hmm. More than once, I thought the two might be plotting something against me…at times, they seemed as close as sisters." He smiled. "You're a lot like them, too."

His daughter flushed with pride. "Really?"

He laughed. "Yep. Same spirit, same penchant for getting into trouble…you even have some of the same mannerisms, like the way you entered the study. You must have subconsciously picked those behaviors up from your mother when she was still here…"

"Where is she, Dad?"

Joe Hardy shook his head. "Sweetheart, I wish I knew…We were all on a case, your mother, your Aunt Callie and Uncle Frank, Nancy, and I…you'd been left with Grandma and Grandpa Hardy. Since your birth, your mother and I hadn't gone on too many investigations, but this one had seemed relatively tame – there no warning signs that everything was going to end badly.

We'd gone into an old warehouse, hoping to find evidence of a smuggling ring…but the building was rigged with explosives. They knew we were coming." His mind flashed back to that awful moment, the noise of the explosions, the smoke, and the sounds of his brother and friends calling out to each other, everyone separated in the chaos….Tears filled his eyes and his throat began to close. He blinked rapidly, coughed, and struggled on.

"The power of the explosives wasn't enough to collapse the whole building…but a portion near us did cave in…a hot beam fell on your Uncle's leg…that's how he got that scar…none of us escaped without some hurt. But though four of us had gotten out…your mother was nowhere to be seen."

"Did you look for her, Daddy?" His daughter's voice had become small, and he noticed tears in her eyes as well. Joe leaned forward and took Nancy's hand, gripping it tightly.

"I tried, sweetheart," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "Oh, honey, I definitely tried to find her…I went back in again and again, until the others finally held me back…"

Nancy sniffled and rubbed her eyes and nose with her wrist. "You didn't find her," she said softly. This part she knew well. Though Joe had searched, and the police and firefighters had searched, no evidence of Vanessa Hardy had ever been found. There were no remains, and it was possible that she had escaped the fire and wandered away confused. But it was equally possible that she had died. Nancy knew her mother was currently listed as "Missing – Presumed Dead," and that her father still found it difficult to talk about his wife.

There was no tombstone to mourn at, as Joe would not officially declare Vanessa deceased, but there was no way to contact her mother either. The woman remained a mystery. Though other family members had offered to tell her about her mother, she'd wanted to hear about Vanessa from Joe, and Joe alone.

The pair sat in silence then, father and daughter both lost in their own individual pain, until the chime of the clock brought them back. Joe glanced at the time – four o'clock. Good. There was still time before the shops closed.

"Hey," he said gently, "I have an idea. Are you willing to listen?" Nancy nodded. "Let's go buy some flowers, for your grandmothers…and a special bouquet for your mom."

"But there's no way to-"

"I know…but here's what we'll do. Tomorrow, we'll visit several places around town that your mother loved…and in each place, we'll place one of the flowers from the bouquet. And at each spot, we'll remember your mother, and send out a feeling of love. No matter where she is, I know she'll know we're thinking about her."

"Really?"

He smiled, for the first time since the conversation had started. "Really." And though he'd been afraid he might feel otherwise, in his heart, he did believe it was true.


End file.
